Bakers and their Loyalty
by Paperclip-Assassin
Summary: "She's never been closer to getting what she's always dreamt of." Requested continuation of 'Barbers and their Sensibilities' but can absolutely stand alone and is a lot lighter. Sweenett, of course.
1. Part I

**Yay, guys, I'm back! :)**

**So I was getting so much encouragement to continue my last multi-chap and at first I really didn't feel like making it longer than an epilogue-_ish_ one-shot but now I got a tiny little plan worked out. It depends a lot on your feedback though, because you know how sometimes you really love something and you can't let go of it? That's how I feel with this storyline in the alternate universe I've previously created in Barbers and their Sensibilities and now I'm feeling a little insecure about it. Dunno.**

**Anyway, if you haven't read the other story, don't worry. This can absolutely stand alone, though BatS** _(never noticed how it shortens to that)_** does explain the changes in Sweeney. Basically the previous story was really dark and there was a lot of violence and I really want this continuation to be a lot lighter and maybe even a bit fluff-ish. Just because I'm loving the pairing more than ever. **

**Also because of my terrible updating intervals last time I'm not gonna set myself a deadline for updates, it just seems to work better for me this way, sorry for any inconvenience. I am trying to give you regular updates by keeping them a bit shorter though. **

**Okay, enough chit-chat and on with the story, I hope you're in for the ride.**

Disclaimer: disclaimed. (This is the laziest disclaimer I've come up with in a year but I'm tired.)

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_**Bakers and their Loyalty**_  
Pt. I

Wiggling her toes in the sand, Eleanor Lovett let out a content sigh and, leaning back on her elbows, stretched her torso sunwards. Not that the sun was particularly warm but it was there and that's what mattered to the baker. It had been quite a while since she had fled the dreaded streets of London with her barber and still it thrilled her that he hadn't turned down her plea to take her with him, though she still thought his change of general behavior more than strange; he even was close to _friendly_ on some days. Well, she certainly wouldn't _complain_.

The only thing bothering her now while sitting on the tranquil beach she had dreamt of she was a little innocent lass was the tiny nagging voice in the back of her head screaming at her that she was bloody insane to believe Sweeney Todd had really changed and was not just making a fool of her as he had done so often in the past. She had become quite good at ignoring that annoying voice, though fully aware of her own foolish trust in a man that had not only ruined her life but also attempted to murder her on more than one occasion,

Wasn't it strange how one was influenced by love?

Love was what had started this whole dilemma in the first place. Had the barber not loved his goddamn Lucy as much as he obviously had – and likely still did – he wouldn't have felt the need to avenge the judge's wrongdoings in such a violent way. And had she, Eleanor Lovett, not loved Sweeney Todd – in a way even more than she had loved Benjamin Barker – her heart would have been spared all the misery of the past year since the barber's escape from the colony.

It was a sheer mystery to her how the silly man could leave her devastated and in shreds and then return to heal her almost instantly by merely giving her the least amount of attention he could muster without being impolite.  
Yes, he was still not one to merrily converse with, though currently a little more than even she had initially dared to hope when they had left the city together. He at least seemed to not detest her company anymore and he, as he so often did, described her constant chatter as 'disgusting' he said it halfheartedly and without the loathing undertone his voice had always held before she had kicked him out of her house.

In retrospect it had been the best damn thing she'd ever done in her life. Now, if she were to believe the barber's story – and at the moment she did – he had done the one thing she had advised him to do for months and found closure. And she liked to give herself a little bit of credit for that, mostly because _he_ didn't.

She shook her head at her own thoughts, torn between rational thoughts telling her to think clearly and leave the man who had so much power over her be, and irrational emotions effectively blocking her ability to do precisely that. On the one hand she still loved him unconditionally, even though he still treated her like air on some days and _still_ took advantage of her as his personal housekeeper, but on the other hand she couldn't quite trust him – or _herself_. Not after all that had happened.

"Enough o' all this," she said to herself as she moved to get up, carefully brushing sand off her dress and arms. She was done doubting the barber's motives for one day. If he wanted to leave her he would have not only said but also already _done_ so.

Her feet were still bare when she walked along the sea shore, almost squealing with delight every time the cold water washed over her skin. Above her head she heard the raw squawking of a group of seagulls. They were not really the most beautiful birds to look at and definitely dreaded by society. In a way so was Eleanor herself. She knew what it was like to be left alone in the dark world of the industrial age, and being treated like a leper. With Sweeney she had found someone who understood that too and even while he stayed quiet throughout most days except for necessary communication, in the evenings he had gradually started to engage in conversation with the baker. He probably underestimated how much this meant to her but she pretended like it was nothing out of the ordinary and so they sat by the fire in the small cottage they had rented – still close enough to the sea to hear the waves crashing – and talked about whatever came to their mind. Those rare moments when he let her in, let her get to know that new person he was trying to be, kept the tiny flame of hope deep within the depths of her scarred heart burning.

It was now gradually getting dark and in the distance she could see that a thunderstorm was creeping its way up to the coast. She quickened her pace until she was running across the dunes, joyful laughter escaping her lips. Never in her life had she felt as free as at that moment. Suddenly rain started falling, soaking her from head to toe but she couldn't care less. She spread her arms and pirouetted around while her fiery curls dampened and stuck to her face. When the roar of thunder grew louder and lightning started illuminating the dark grey sky at closer intervals she knew she had to make her way back to the cottage. Back _home_.

.

He didn't look like he had been waiting for her but for the fraction of a second she saw relief cross his beautiful face when she stepped through the door just as lightning flashed through the sky again.

"You've been gone for a while," he stated and made his way over to the small cooking niche to put some kettle on.

"Sorry, love. Got a lil' distracted out there." She crossed the room until she was standing next to him and pressed a small kiss to his cheek which the barber endured patiently. At least usually he did. Now he grimaced and turned to face her and she was all but expecting him to hit her. Instead he studied her closely and in his eyes she could detect the hint of a smile.

"Eleanor, you are soaking wet."

At that she laughed, "Oh really? I 'adn't noticed."  
She wrung out her hair for demonstrational purposes and the water formed a small puddle on the floor before it got soaked up by the wood. When she looked at him again her corkscrew curls were even messier than usual, partly blocking her vision. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before stepping forward and tentatively reaching out to brush her untamable streaks of hair out of her face. Her heart almost stopped at his touch. For a moment they stood there, unmoving, and stared into each other's eyes. The barber was just about to say something but instead cleared his throat and stepped away.

"I believe you should get out of those clothes."

The innuendo was not intended by him and she knew that but still her stomach flipped at his words and she suddenly longed for him to mean what he had said like she wished to hear. She just nodded, though his back was turned on her and went into her bedroom. It was the _only_ bedroom but Sweeney had in an unusual moment of generosity offered for her to take it while he slept on the surprisingly spacious sofa in the living area. She had tried pushing her luck and hinted that she wouldn't mind them sharing a bed but he had sent her a glare that had made the blood freeze in her veins. Since that day she had dropped the subject.

From next door she heard the shrill noise of the boiling kettle. The thought of having a cup of tea calmed her and it took her a moment to realize why; she was shaking with cold. Untying the cords of a corset was already hard enough on a normal day, now with the knots soaked and tightened it was a task almost impossible to achieve. But the baker could hardly ask the man in the next room for help. She frowned, considering her chances of him actually coming to her rescue. As if on cue a knock sounded at the door.

"Eleanor?"

"Just a minute, dear. I'm havin' trouble with me dress."

Silence. She could perfectly picture the helpless expression on his face. "Do you.. uh.. need help?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." After that she heard him step away from the door. It took some more fumbling but eventually she managed to untie her corset and get out of her wet clothes. For the evening she decided to put on a lighter robe, black as always, and with the usual generous amount of cleavage showing. As soon as she was dry again she felt immensely better and was ready to emerge from the room and join her barber again.

He was sitting by the fire, blankly staring into the flames, orange shadows dancing across his features. When he noticed her he shifted in his seat to provide enough space for her to sit down next to him.

"You 'av'n't touched your tea yet," she commented as she reached out for her own cup. He looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite read before demonstratively taking a sip of the warm liquid.

"So how was the beach?" he asked after a long silence.

"Oh, it was beautiful, Mr. T. You should really come along next time." She wasn't quite prepared for his answer, so when he finally responded she almost dropped the porcelain cup in her hands.

"Maybe I will."

And just like that her world was spinning again. He was willing to accompany her. To spend more time in her presence than absolutely necessary. What did this mean? She certainly didn't know. Likely she was interpreting too much into his simple statement but after their little moment earlier she wasn't sure anymore. God, this man _confused_ her sometimes. For now there was nothing she could do but to wait and see.

The baker leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling the warmth radiating off the man sitting next to her and hiding the smile that slowly spread on her face behind her teacup.

She hadn't yet given up on love.

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**To be continued? I'm ready if you are. The only thing I'm waiting for is your opinion in a review.**


	2. Part II

**'Ello, dearies. Another chapter for you.**

To _Sally_, the guest reviewer: I know this story ain't my best work ever, but writing it is fun and makes my nine hour workdays go by faster. Thanks for reading anyway, though. :)

**You can skip the rest this A/N and scroll straight to the story if you're not in the mood for HBC fangirling - but I've _got_ to get it out of my system.**

Has anyone seen _Burton & Taylor_ yet? 'Cause I have and holy sh*t is that film epic. Her portrayal of Elizabeth Taylor is amazing and I mean I love Helena always and forever in every movie she does and she's always beautiful (_even as an ape... sorta_) but I think she looked breathtakingly gorgeous in this one. Like, I was completely in awe throughout the whole movie. And to think she's already nearing 50 years of age... I think she and Johnny Depp just decided to stop growing old altogether. I love them to death.

okay. Fangasm's over.

**Disclaimer: ****Not mine. Darn it.**

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_**Bakers and their Loyalty**_  
Pt. II

Morning dew was sticking to the grass, reflecting the weak sunlight and transforming the meadow behind the cottage into a sea of glistening sparks. The baker and the barber were casually strolling along the narrow pathway leading down to the village in the near valley. She had her arm looped through his and couldn't possibly wipe the grin she'd been wearing all morning off her face. Ever since they had settled in their new home she loved walking through the landscape, discovering something new every single time she wandered the by now familiar route. It made her happy that Sweeney had decided to tag along on her weekly trip to shop for food (and the occasional utensil she decided to need in their house), mainly because she always liked spending time with him but also because she tended to buy a little bit too much and to have a strong man with her who could carry her bags was definitely an advantage.  
They walked in silence while she clung to his arm like a tick, not even letting go when they had to cross a small creek which almost resulted in an involuntary bath for the both of them but he didn't seem to mind too much.

In the distance she could already make out the bell tower and her pace quickened on its own accord. It was still early so not many were roaming the streets yet, it was almost dead compared to the busy rushing about of people in the capital.

"Ain't it nice 'ow calm it is down 'ere?" she asked while letting her eyes wander over the shop windows. The butcher seemed to have got fresh supplies only recently and she was convinced she had to take advantage of that.

"It was calmer at the cottage, no?" His response was sour but she could tell he was enjoying himself. At least a little bit. She didn't react except for an eye-roll and towed him along into the shop.

"Mornin', Carl." she called as the bell at the door gave a cheerful jingle. She had been on a first name basis with the butcher from the beginning. He was a friendly man of heavy stature with an observant gaze and reminded her almost of her late husband Albert.

"Ah, Eleanor. What a pleasant surprise," he walked around his counter to greet her and reached out for her free hand, the one that wasn't still clutching Sweeney's arm. The barber growled almost inaudibly as the butcher pressed a kiss to her knuckles and sent her a wink before retreating a few steps. "I see you have brought your...?"

The baker went rigid as she searched her brain for the appropriate thing to say. Yes, they had told the coachman as well as their landlord that they were married, but as she had come to the village mostly on her own she hadn't considered mentioning her status of relationship to anyone. Now that she thought about it she wasn't even sure what she had told the people as her last name.

"Husband," the barber suddenly said with a dark sort of authority in his voice. The butcher's attitude changed immediately from flirtatious to professional. He seemed disappointed.

"Why, Eleanor, you never told me you were married, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, seeing what a beautiful woman you are."

"Oh, stop it, Carl. I'm gonna blush." Eleanor felt her cheeks redden, but not so much from the butcher's words as for the fact that Sweeney had publicly claimed her his. She knew Carl was a nosy man and soon the whole village would know that the mysterious new arrival was already taken. Well, there went her chance on discounts by flirting with male shopkeepers.

After purchasing a small variety of meat for a bunch of pies - she found it amusing to bake them considering their history but with 'normal' ingredients they were actually quite tasteful - the pair left the shop and continued their stroll. She didn't comment on the scene at the butcher's and neither did he but something felt odd between them and so they finished the shopping tour a bit faster than she had intended and headed back home.

As soon as all food was securely stored away and only her pie-making ingredients and some cooking utensils were left on the small countertop in the cooking niche she began to prepare the dough after her great-grandmother's recipe which she had memorized by heart. She took her time kneading everything. It took her mind off her worries, her current worry being the barber... who was in fact always what she worried about. It made her happy that he reacted the way he had in the village but she just didn't _understand_. The fact that she was in love with him was no secret and she knew that even he was aware of that, so it would not have been a surprise if she had claimed to be married to him but the other way around it just plainly made no sense.  
She shook her head and proceeded to roll out the dough with her new rolling pin. Immediately she fell into her routine of regular motions. It brought joy to her and she realized that she had missed baking pies; it was the only thing she had ever been good at, though her reputation as a baker had severely suffered under the poor meat conditions in the city.

An hour later a steaming batch of hot pastries was decorating the dining table in the living area. There was no sight of the barber anywhere inside the cottage and so she decided to look for him out back. It wasn't hard to spot the head of wild black hair on the edge of the meadow. She went over and sat down in the grass next to him. A mild breeze was blowing, giving her goose-bumps and for a little while she just sat there in her barber's company, not knowing what to say.

"I made us some lunch," she finally said when she couldn't come up with anything better. He nodded in acknowledgement and moved into a standing position, offering to pull her up when she didn't do the same. She grabbed hold of his hand and he yanked her to her feet with ease. They returned to the cottage and she was glad that the pies were still warm because although they were nice when eaten cold she personally preferred them freshly baked.  
He eyed the food on the plate in front of him suspiciously before taking a bite. A smile spread on her face as his eyes widened when he first tasted the pie before he regained a neutral expression.  
"'ow's it taste, love?" she asked innocently.

"Quite good." That was all the recognition and praise she was going to get and she was actually content with that. She ate her share of the meal in silence while pondering over how to approach the touchy subject of the barber's thoughts of their... companionship.

.

"Mr. Todd, could we... talk?" she finally asked almost shyly as she put the last cleaned dish back into the cupboard. Things were going so well at the moment, she was afraid of possible consequences an honest conversation between them could cause. Nevertheless she finally turned to face the man in question to find him looking at her curiously. She sighed and motioned for him to sit down with her. When they both sat on their respectable sides of the dinner table she let out a small breath before she could start.  
"This morning... at Carl's shop, when he... I mean you told 'im that..." she blew air out of her nostrils to calm herself, "Why'd you say we were married?"

By now amusement was evident on the barber's features as he smugly leaned back in his chair. "I thought it's what you wished for people to think."

"Well, yes but-"

"But what, _pet_?" He was studying her closely and she didn't know what to tell him. It was true that she wanted to have the barber known to everyone as her husband even if it was merely a pretense.

"Is that all? You said it for my convenience?" It was fine. At least he wasn't angry as she had feared he would be. Eleanor got up and slowly made her way to the door. She felt like spending the afternoon outside, preferably on her own. Just before she stepped outside the barber's voice stopped her.

"He looked like he wanted to rape you."

The neutral tone of his voice lifted some of the seriousness off his statement which didn't lessen the surprise she felt as those words left his mouth. Turning around in a swift motion she eyed him questioningly before deciding to push him further.  
"An' why is it you care 'bout such a thing? 'e was merely flirting. All o' me male customers always did. You never gave a damn."

He silently stared at her before shaking his head and getting up from his seat. It looked like he wasn't having any more of this discussion and she understood. He'd already cooperated far more than she had dared to hope. But he didn't leave the room and instead approached her until he was directly in front of the baker. His eyes darted across her face and her heartbeat sped up the slightest bit.  
"I don't like to share," he growled.

"I'm not your bloody property," she hissed back, though the expression on his face thrilled her. When she turned to leave his arm shot out and he grabbed her wrist. She knew better than to resist in any way, not in the mood for bruising. "Le' go of me," she said and barely kept herself from rolling her eyes at him. He made no attempt of actually loosening his grip on her and even tugged at her arm to pull her closer.

"Now, Eleanor," he murmured and she actually felt the hot air of his breath fanning against her face, "would you rather I went back to our old ways?"  
Her own breath got caught in her throat and she couldn't respond, intoxicated by the mix of her close proximity to the barber and the sweet sound of his words.  
"That's what I thought," he whispered triumphantly and for the fraction of a second she thought he was going to kiss her but he surprised her again by dropping her hand and casually walking out the still open door. She watched him breathlessly as he disappeared behind a hill, trying to calm her insanely beating heart. The baker no longer felt the need to go outside, though at the moment she could certainly use some fresh air, and went into the kitchen to make some tea for herself.

In the end she had to settle on Gin to calm her nerves but eventually she felt her lightheadedness wearing off and her mind cleared enough for her to start processing what had happened. She made the decision to confront the barber again but waited in vain for his return. When the small clock in the corner struck midnight she went to bed but she wouldn't let the bastard get away with this just like that.

If he wanted to play a game she would gladly participate in it.

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**Those things called 'reviews' bring me happiness. xx**


	3. Part III

**Thank you so much for all the kind feedback. It's much appreciated. **  
**I'm sorry for the short chapters but at least that way I manage to keep them coming regularly, that ought to make up for the pathetic lenght, I hope. At least a tiny bit.**

**Today I'm dead tired but I wanted to update anyway because I got paid for the first time in my life and I'm super happy! Like, you wouldn't believe how proud I am, because I, for once, really feel like I have _done_ something. I know it might sound not out of the ordinary to you but to me this is a huge thing so yeah... I'm ridiculously happy to have earned my own money and want to spread happiness by updating. :P I'm weird.**

**Now on with the story.**

**Disclaimer: Hah. I wish. But no.**

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_**Bakers and their Loyalty**_  
Pt. III

The usual serenity and peace dominating the mornings at the cottage were harshly disrupted when yet another storm raged over the countryside. Trees were almost ripped from the ground, roots and all, rain fell from the darkened sky as if it would never stop again and in the distance the roar of thunder could be heard with increasingly terrifying intensity. At a considerable clash Eleanor awoke with a start and for a moment of two she didn't know where exactly she was. Before her eyes flashed images of her and the barber waltzing through her shabby shop whilst singing a cheerful tune about cannibalism. When she was awake enough to realize that this hadn't been a dream but was, in fact, a memory of hers, growing faint like from another lifetime, she had to laugh at how ridiculously insane her life had been in the past. Deciding there was no use in attempting to fall back asleep considering the ear-shattering weather conditions outside she rolled out of bed and stretched her stiff limbs before rummaging through her wardrobe in search for her outfit of the day. She settled on a charcoal colored dress with long sleeves and an anthracite corset which she had purchased only recently. The village's dressmaker had given her a generous discount on the custom made item of clothing; in return the baker had delivered a variety of her pies to a family gathering. It had been a good deal back then but turned out to be even better on the long run. Word travelled fast in small places and soon people had started to turn up at her doorstep inquiring about the possibility of getting a pie or two. The beaker had felt like she would burst with pride any moment and immediately searched for suitable premises to turn into a pie shop. It had not taken long, as her pies had already gained quite a reputation help had come from all sides and mere two weeks after the dressmaker's family gathering Eleanor had celebrated the grand opening of her shop. A sign advertising "Mrs. Todd's Pies" was dangling above the door and a little bell informed her whenever a customer entered. Even Sweeney had made a brief appearance at the opening celebration to keep up the pretense of their marriage but had left as soon as it had been acceptable. Eleanor knew he thought she was spreading stories about the two of them and making up nonsense about how they met but the truth was that the little baker was quite secretive about their relationship, much to the dismay of some fellow female shopkeepers around her own business who were even nosier than Mrs. Mooney had been back in London.

She wasn't surprised when she found Sweeney awake and brooding over his treasured friends, holding them with a fondness that was, in her eyes, wasted on an inanimate object. He polished them twice every week, though she knew that he was no longer out for revenge, it merely was a little nostalgic pastime of his, after all _he_ didn't have a new business to care for.  
It startled her slightly when he addressed her without looking up.

"Trouble sleeping?" His tone was strangely caring but she shrugged it off, blaming it on his admiration for the glistening razor in his hand. She nodded her head in confirmation and glanced at the clock, wincing when the time showed three o'clock in the morning, she had to be in her shop at half five to bake the first batch of pies she had prepared. It being a Saturday she would certainly not be able to close her shop until seven that night.

"It's goin' ta be a rough day, Mr. T," she said and dropped down on a chair, suddenly feeling tired again. Without a word he got up, gathering his razors together and placing them in the velvet cushioned box to later store it away in a hiding place she hadn't yet discovered, and crossed the room until he was at the cooking niche. He poured a cup of tea – for a second she wondered why the shrill whistling of boiling kettle hadn't woken her – and placed it on the table by her side. She took it, warming her hands on the cup, and sent him a grateful smile.

Outside the wind was still wildly howling and she heard the waves at the shore breaking with force. Mostly the baker didn't mind such weather but on this day she dreaded the thought of leaving the house. Absentmindedly she sipped her tea, savoring the flavor of the different herbs on her tongue and for a little while she was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn't notice it right away when Sweeney started kneading her shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension out of her. The unfamiliar intimacy of the action had quite the opposite effect on the baker; instead of relaxing her whole body went rigid.

"What's wrong, pet?" he asked, voice laced with suppressed amusement, and continued to massage her tense muscles. The use of her nickname made her furious for some reason she didn't understand. She couldn't concentrate while she felt the feather light touch of his fingers on her neck, like a caress. A small part of her remembered the last time his hands had been this close to her throat and she shuddered involuntarily. Not wanting him to mistake that shudder for a reaction of pleasure, which would give him the upper hand in their little war, she forced herself to get up and take the teacup to the iron tub filled with water where she intended to do unnecessary washing-up.

"You should go and sleep for another hour or so," he stated from somewhere behind her but she didn't respond, furiously brushing away on the already clean cup. Her gaze was stubbornly fixed on the porcelain crockery when a hand shot out from nowhere and snatched it from her fingers before placing it on the countertop. She turned around and all but gnarled at the barber whose expression was unfathomable.

"Sorry," she mumbled after a moment of uncomfortable silence and fled to her room. As soon as the door was closed behind her, effectively separating them, she let out a deep breath which she hadn't realized she'd been holding and let herself fall backwards into the unmade sheets of her bed. The fact that such obvious gestures of care from Sweeney towards her annoyed the baker, frightened her even, caused her to shake her head at her own behavior. All these years she had wished for him to see her. And not just visually but _really_ see her; _notice_ her, maybe even adore her a little like he had Lucy. Now that he finally showed some sort of interest in her persona – and even if it was just due to the fact that even demon barbers liked having someone to talk to from time to time and she just so happened to be the only one available to him – she was the one constantly pushing him away, afraid of what would happen to her already fragile emotional state if he decided to go back to loathing her.

Eleanor hadn't intended to fall back asleep but when she awoke for the second time that morning she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her and her initial cheerfulness was back, she even had the hint of a genuine smile on her lips when she emerged from the bedroom. Sweeney was again sitting in his usual spot but his razors were gone. This time he looked up at her straight away.

"I see you seem to have started your day over. Good." His voice was teasing but friendly – at least as friendly as it got when it came to Sweeney Todd.

"Yes, I have," she said, before again looking at the clock in the corner and adding: "Though it's still quite early. Isn' it?" The barber nodded once. A liitle over an hour had passed since her first entrance. She took a seat next to him, a little bit further away than she would normally, and straightened her dress before folding her hands in her lap.  
"So, wot are _you_ gonna do t'day, love?"

His expression was blank and unreadable as he considered his answer before something akin to disappointment crossed his features. "I thought about going fishing… but after a storm like this it is unlikely that I'd catch anything at all."

"It's Saturday, y'know. Shop's gonna be busy as 'ell… Your 'elp would be much appreciated," she hinted, already knowing what his reaction would be.

"You'll manage," he said and his tone indicated that any further discussion of the matter was pointless.  
Him mentioning the weather earlier had made her focus on the noises outside and at the moment the heavy rain seemed to have lessened, so she decided to leave, moving into a standing position, before the storm regained its force. He mirrored her actions, escorting her to the door where she took her ancient coat from the hanger and unhurriedly put it on, taking special care on buttoning it up. He watched her politely and when she'd finished handed her a woolen scarf to wrap around her head for wind protection.

"Thanks, love," she murmured as she took the item of clothing from his hands, throwing it haphazardly over her slender shoulders, before leaning up and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "I'll be back at around eight-_ish_, I believe." With that she left the house, wrapping the scarf around her head when a gust of wind messed up her already chaotic hair, and wandered toward the village.

Only halfway through her journey did she realize what she had done and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of a field, lifting a cautious hand up and touching tentative fingers to her lips. She longed to go back and see what this thoughtless action of hers had done to the barber. Knowing him it was likely that he was furious, after all she had no right whatsoever to go around kissing him as she pleased, but there was the small possibility that the affectionate gesture had felt as normal and appropriate to him as it had to her when she'd so innocently acted on that strange impulse.  
Either way, she had no choice but to wait for the evening to clear things up between them, the wind started raging again and a look at the heavy clouds above her head told her she had to hurry if she wanted to make it to the village without getting absolutely soaked. Pulling her coat tighter around her body the baker broke into a light trot, fleeing just as much from Sweeney as from the weather.

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**Oh oh oh! I finally managed to sneek in a kiss!  
Review to celebrate with me xx**


	4. Part IV

**Woohoo people, I'm free! Finally I'm on summer holidays and I'm gonna enjoy 'em. **  
**So, it's about 3 a.m. right now (like I said, I'm on summer holidays, who cares when I go to sleep?!) and I'm still gonna update this now in case I don't have time tomorrow, being the busy girl I am. :P **

For this chapter I actually did some research on the name 'Sweeney'... oddly enough it can be traced to the meaning of '_baker_' or '_white_', the latter being suitable considering the hair. But isn't it funny how our dearest barber's name is 'baker' of all things?

**This chapter contains some random fluff because I felt like it, sue me or whatever. :D**

**Disclaimer: I own Carl and Mrs. Price and dislike both of them equally because Sweeney Todd is perfect and doesn'T need any OCs.**

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**_Bakers and their Loyalty_**  
Pt IV

Even though she did her best to focus on her work in the pie shop, Eleanor couldn't fully conceal the fact that her thoughts were on other things than baking and serving pastries, constantly meandering back to the cottage and the morning's events. The longer she was away the more embarrassed she was of her own action. It simply shouldn't have happened like that. Their first actual kiss should not have been the result of a moment of slipped feelings on her part. Not like he didn't have it coming; after all his teasing and suggestiveness it had only been a matter of time until her carefully feigned indifference would crumble. He must have known that and used it against her, proving to her that he would always be the one to have the upper hand, not her. Never her.

The baker's worked-up mood didn't go unnoticed by her customers and it clearly didn't help her case when she, in a moment of carelessness, spilled some of the ale which she was currently serving all over a businessman who frequently found his way into the remote little village.

"Good grief, Mrs. Todd!" the man exclaimed angrily, now sporting a rather unattractive wet spot on his fancy vest.

"'M so sorry, sir," Eleanor apologized quickly and started to clumsily rub her dishcloth across the stain, attempting and miserably failing to dry it off. When she realized she was only making things worse she took a shameful step back. "Your meal an' drink'll be free of charge o'course, sir. I'm really terribly sorry." In London she wouldn't have given a damn whether she'd angered a customer or not, but in a small place a good reputation was more important.

"Very well," the man said sourly though he seemed far less upset now that he could walk out of the place without paying. He got up, tipping his hat at the baker, and did just that while she called another apology after him. She shook her head at her own error and exhaled deeply before swiping her cloth over the table to wipe up any remnants of the spilled beverage, constantly feeling someone's gaze on her. When it got too annoying she turned her head to face the watcher.

There, at the next table, was Mrs. Price, a lady in her seventies with silver locks of hair, always worn in a bun, and curious grey eyes. Her husband was in the tea business and while he worked she would usually sit in the new pie shop to keep an eye on the new arrival in what she considered to be _her_ village.

"Can I 'elp you?" the baker asked sarcastically and with a visibly forced smile on her lips, already fearing that a long conversation lay ahead of her.

"Oh, I don't think so, Ellie, dear." Ellie. Of all nicknames available to her the retiree had to pick the one Eleanor despised the most. She had gotten used to being called Nell or seldom _Nellie_ by her regulars in the capital but most people had called her by her last name anyway. Why, she herself had thought of her persona as 'Mrs. Lovett', though since Sweeney had started calling her by her given name after his return she had rediscovered a certain fondness for it. But Ellie was just plainly wrong, it sounded too sweet, too innocent for a criminal like her. She'd had an aunt who would always call her that and as much as she thought about it, she could not recall one single positive memory of that woman, therefore disliking the nickname even more.  
"Maybe, _I_ can help _you_, though," Mrs. Price said knowingly just as the baker had been sure she had escaped the conversation, "Bu' then again, it's different with you young people nowadays…"

"For God's sake, I knows you're dyin' ta bloody say something so migh' as well get it over with." The baker had trouble keeping the annoyance out of her voice and was speaking in a rushed manner, hands on her hips. There were no other customers in the shop and it was still some time until the lunch rush would start so when the grey-haired woman motioned for her to sit down opposite her the baker capitulated and dropped down on the uncomfortable chair – _she would have to purchase better ones in the near future._

"Looks to me like you're not quite present t'day. 'Course you're here alright, but your pretty lil' head is all up in the clouds." To emphasize her words she tapped her index finger against Eleanor's forehead. The baker shrank back from the unwanted touch – another thing that reminded her of the deceased aunt. "And you might be able to fool yourself there," her opponent continued with a smirk, "but you cannot possibly fool old Mrs. Price. No point tryna hide it, dear. Don't'cha worry, it'll all be fine in the end."

"I'm flattered that you seem so… _concerned_ about me, Mrs. Price, bu' I really 'ave no idea wot you're talkin' about." The baker felt a certain uneasiness growing in the pit of her stomach and squirmed under the inquisitive gaze of the older woman.

"I recognize a failed marriage when I see one! It happens all the time when a married couple moves to the countryside. Something in the air ain't right for town people. A lil' distance might do you an' your man some good."

Eleanor bit back a chuckle. Given, the woman's guess wasn't that far off but after all her troubles with the barber, distance was the last bloody thing she needed from him, in fact she desired quite the opposite. And her problem was, after all, not a _failed_ marriage, but a complete lack of a marriage in the first place. "I can assure you that-"

"Ah, don't be ashamed. There's plenty o' fish in the sea and a woman like you won't have trouble finding a new bloke. I hear Carl is quite fond of you." Now the woman was growing shameless. "A butcher and a pie-maker, couldn't get any better. What does your Sweeney do but stay at home all the time? You deserve better, Ellie. …And what kind of name is 'Sweeney' anyways? I always wondered 'bout that."

At that precise moment a bunch of young men burst through the door, bell jingling furiously, and they took their seat at the round table in the far corner of the small dining area. The baker gladly excused herself from the strange conversation to serve the group of hopefully hungry gentlemen.

**.**

When Eleanor double-locked the doors of her precious premises to finally head home it was already late. The storm had passed, giving way to pleasantly soft autumn winds and clear air, no longer filled with the heavy humidity of rain. The baker had had quite a number of mouths to feed during the dinner rush, therefore her schedule had gotten all messed up and now there she was, walking home in the dark. The night was clear with millions and millions of stars glowing high above her head. Their number seemed so much greater without the constant smog of the capital covering the sky like a hazy curtain of dirt. Marveling at the sheer beauty of the night she took a longer route home which lead over a steep hill, that way she could feel closer to the tiny dots of bright light in the distance. She took off her coat and straightened it out in the moist meadow so she could lay down and just stare upwards in awe. All around her she could hear the nightly songs of hundreds of crickets and even an occasional owl.

"Beautiful, eh?"

She sat up abruptly, one hand instinctively moving to her chest; her heart beat rapidly with surprise. For an irrational moment she thought it was Sweeney who had so suddenly appeared behind her. Or maybe the appearance hadn't been all that sudden, she thought as she looked back at the butcher who was casually sitting on the stump of a cut tree.  
"How long've you been 'ere for?"

"Can't say. I often come up here since my dear Georgia's passing, she loved this place," Carl wasn't looking at her but at the sky.

"Oh, I di'n't know, I'm so sorry, love." The baker's heart constricted painfully as she thought of all the times she had teasingly inquired about the butcher's wife minding his flirtatious attitude towards her. Never would she have thought him to be a widower.

"Don't be, Eleanor. She's been gone for a while, besides," he turned his focus from the stars to the baker, "There's no point in dwellin' on one's past, is there now?" Oh, if there was one person who understood what the man meant it would have to be Eleanor Lovett. She sent him a small smile.

"You're right."

.

Time flew by as the pair just sat there, completely absorbed in the simple peacefulness of the late night hours and when the midnight-bell sounded faintly the baker wished nothing more than to stay for another while but she knew she had to return to her home eventually.

"'S been nice havin' your company, Carl," she said in a hushed voice so as not to disturb the silence as she got up, throwing her damp coat over her arm, "bu' Mr. Todd'll probably be wondrin' where I am by now so I better be 'eadin' back."

"Let me accompany you, a woman should not walk alone at this time of night," Carl said with the oddest expression on his face. They walked the way to the cottage in silence but it wasn't like the pure quietness of their star-gazing but more of awkward origin. When they arrived at the door weak light shone from the windows, so the barber was likely still awake. Before Eleanor could as much as touch the door handle it was already yanked open from the inside.

"Got lost, pet?" the barber asked darkly as he stared down at the baker. His onyx eyes gave away the concern he was hiding in his voice, and she wouldn't have noticed it had she not known the bloody man so well.

"Is that the proper way to greet one's wife?" It seemed like Sweeney only became aware of the butcher's presence as he spoke and his demeanor changed immediately to something the baker couldn't fathom. In the next instant she was pulled from the butcher's side into the barber's arms and suddenly his lips were on hers in a tender kiss. She felt like she was going to faint from sensory overload.

When he pulled back it was only far enough for him to whisper, "I missed you, _my love_."

Carl, who had done his best not to watch the exchange, cleared his throat in embarrassment and mumbled a halfhearted 'goodnight' into the couple's general direction before shuffling away into the darkness. As soon as he was out of sight Eleanor, still breathing raggedly, stared at the barber in amazement before he stepped away, motioning for her to enter the cottage. By the time she was standing in the living area's centre her confusion and wonder had morphed into irritation.

"Wot was that performance out there?" she asked, hands on her hips and determined to stay reasonable. Sweeney met her gaze with patience but she wouldn't let him speak. "Thought 'e migh' wan' ta rape me again, did you? So, 'course the logical thing to do is kiss me."

Now the barber's eyes narrowed but his expression was far from hostile. "I wanted to greet my _wife_ properly." The way he said 'wife', laced with sarcasm and ridicule, hurt her more than she cared to admit. similar to when he had called her his 'love' earlier. She overplayed it with aggression.

"I'll tell ya wot you was doin'. You was jus' being a jealous bastard and getting' back at me fo' this morning, Now, if you'll excuse me I wish to get some sleep."

"Eleanor," Sweeney actually heaved a sigh, "Must we always have this discussion over and over again? I am certainly _not_ jealous."

"Oh, I'm growing tired too, Mr. T. Real tired. That's why I'm off ta bed." She didn't actually move from her spot but he took several steps forward until he was standing directly in front of her. They stared at each other, both too stubborn to give up just yet, but when he came even closer after a long and heavy silence she was growing unsure. "Wot d'you think you're doin'?"

"Consider it… an experiment."

And with that the barber's lips came crashing down on hers for the third time that day. Immediately her head began to spin and all rational thought left her, too consumed by the kiss she was unable to form any coherent thought whatsoever. His lips felt so alien and still so familiar against her own, to her annoyance her state of pure bliss drained her of oxygen faster than she liked and she had to pull back and breathe. His eyes were curious as he let his hands wander along her sides.

"May I ask wot in the name of-" His lips cut her off but she pulled back again. "Don't do that!"

"Kiss you?" The barber smirked, knowing he had gained a new power over her; he could now shut her up any time he liked. At the moment Eleanor couldn't bring herself to mind but still she knew she mustn't let him have this utter control over her.

"I- Mr. Todd, is your experiment over, 'cause-"

"Don't you ever _shut up_, woman?" he growled as he kissed her once more, pushing her up against a wall.

"Make me," she teased, not prepared when his response was lifting her up. In a reflex her legs wrapped around his waist and her breath got caught in her throat. For a short moment she searched his eyes, though she didn't know for what exactly, but she lost her train of thought anyway when he started to kiss down her throat, tongue darting out to caress a sweet spot near her collarbone.

For the rest of the night Eleanor Lovett did for once in her life not feel the need to speak.

* * *

**Was it over the top? It was a little over the top, right? Ugh, but I looove them so much :'(**

**A Sweenett kiss in the next chapter for every review I get ;)**


	5. Part V

**Okay sorry but you got a long A/N coming.**

**I'm so grateful for all your lovely reviews, they really keep me going but I got news that may disappoint some of you. **

**Good news is that this chapter is double-lenght. *yay***

**Bad news is that it's also the last chapter of this installment. I know that it's sudden and I really didn't see it coming myself but there's a couple of things that got in the way - or are about to do so. **  
**First of all I'll be leaving for a three week trip along the US east coast in roughly ten hours **_(Maybe I should go to bed...)_** and although I might find time to write it's not likely I'll also have access to a computer to publish my updates. **  
**Once I return from the trip school starts again for me and I really need to focus on that, so it would be counter productive to put all my energy into this baby here. **  
**So, instead of leaving you guys with a hiatus of unknown length I decided to end it as reasonable as possible considering the suddenness. **

**I'm really, really sorry and you're even allowed to hate me, just don't give up on my writing, please? I promise to come up with a couple of one-shots in the near future and I really hope you guys will take your time to read them. Your reviews and support make me happier than you probably think.**

**Maybe I'll re-edit this story when I find the time during the school year and add the Carl storylineI had in mind, but I so not promise anything concerning that.**

**Anyway, again thank you people out there for reading this and leaving your thoughts. I lovett when I hear from you. xx**

**Here comes the last chapter**

disclaimer: Me no owns.

_(Warning: Contains a passage of pretty harsh language)_

* * *

_**Bakers and their Loyalty**_  
Pt V

Her eyes were already adjusted to the gloomy lighting in her bedroom after she'd been staring at the ceiling for what must have been an hour at least. The barber was sprawled partly across her body and though he seemed to be sleeping his fingers still caressed the naked flesh of her exposed stomach, raising goose-bumps. Still she couldn't believe the night's events; it was far too surreal to her that after almost two decades of yearning she would at last get what she had desired for so long. His touch had lifted her into realms beyond heaven while his kisses had effectively muffled the screams of joy threatening to break from her lips. Even the memory of their passionate coupling made her cheeks go hotter and she knew that her complexion must resemble a tomato. The baker swallowed once while cautiously, so as not to wake him, reaching out to run her fingers through his messy streaks of hair. It was softer than it looked, she noticed while her heart fluttered with mirth. Still, a feeling of uneasiness was ever present and she feared that she was either hallucinating and in reality lying unconsciously somewhere in the wet grass, or that the barber had merely satisfied his own needs and used her for that, knowing that it would not take much for her to comply.

His fingers stopped the absentminded caresses, a sign that he was close to waking, and she immediately lifted her hand away from his scalp in fear of the touch being inappropriate. The barber grunted and shifted his weight off her, making her feel cold and vulnerable, before laying on his back with his gaze on the ceiling in a posture similar to her own.

"You awake?" His voice was low and neutral. It was either the calm before the storm, or a sign that he was actually content with their current situation.

"Yes, love." She said but it sounded insecure and her voice almost broke at the end. Afraid she would say something stupid she pressed her lips tightly together, not noticing that her hands balled into fists simultaneously. He _did_ notice though and, without hesitation, took her petite hand in his, uncurling her fingers so that they would fit between his own.  
It was this tender gesture that pushed her over the edge.

Tears which she had carefully kept under control until then rolled down her cheeks and silent sobs shook her ribcage, even though she tried hard to suppress them, knowing how ridiculous she was being.  
Obviously he had not expected that reaction - in a way she hadn't either - because he moved to look at her closely, supporting his weight on his elbow. Her head was turned away from him so she didn't have to see the expression on his face. Neither spoke so it was dead silent except for her ragged intakes of breath between her mute sobs.´

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, his hand wandering over her bare arm but disappearing again when she jerked at the contact. At first she was unsure what he meant until she caught a glimpse of her outstretched limb which was covered in purplish bruises where he had held her down at night. She hadn't minded too much at the time, knowing he would wake with several marks on his own body.  
"Eleanor... would you _please_ speak to me?"  
His tone was so mild it all but reminded the baker of Benjamin; still she feared a new fit of sobs if she attempted to talk. Gradually his patience was wearing thin, she could tell, and he gently forced her to look at him, turning her head with his hand. When the inquisitive stare of his pitch black eyes hit her with full force she had to swallow hard, images of the wondrous expression in those same eyes from the night hitting her like a violent slap in the face.

Her lower lip quivered before she could bite down on it to make it stop and again her eyes became clouded with tears. Before she knew what was happening he had her pulled up against his chest in a half-sitting position and his hands were all over her in soothing caresses whilst he kept mumbling sweet nonsense into her ear to calm her. Of course he was attempting to make her feel better but every touch, every single word from his lips, made it worse and her sobs, not so silent this time, ripped through the air. Now Eleanor Lovett was not really one for big teary emotional breakdowns, never had been, but she had in no way ever felt so utterly exposed to someone as at that moment.

"Please... Please, Mr. T..." she couldn't get out more but he seemed to understand anyway and let her go. As soon as she was free to move she covered herself with the blanket up to her chin. The barber heaved a sigh, it was unclear whether he was annoyed or simply confused by her behavior, and moved out of bed, putting on his pants in a swift motion, and left the room with a last lingering look over his shoulder.

Once alone breathing was easier again and Eleanor calmed down somewhat. She felt like she was supposed to feel anger toward Sweeney for using her in such a way but she just couldn't be mad. He hadn't hurt her, no, he had done worse. He had given her a taste of what she had been missing out on all these years and now, once he went back to being his normal self, it would be impossible for her to keep up their playfully sexual banter with him without thinking of how it felt when he looked at her with sincere fondness instead of meaningless innuendo in his eyes.

When all her tears had dried off and she was sure that she was done crying she rolled over, curling herself into a ball and tried to get some more sleep. Thank God it was Sunday and she did not have to open her shop.

**.**

The sun was already high up in the sky when Eleanor sneaked out of the cottage past a slumbering barber to get some quality alone time. It took her longer than usual to get to her favorite spot on the beach but once she was there she felt better in an instant, at last able to pretend like last night hadn't happened or merely been a lucid dream of hers. For a whole hour she could wander the long band of sand with her mind completely blank before she felt the presence of another person behind her and came to an abrupt halt. Of course she had a faint idea who it could be and this time she was certain that it wasn't Carl the butcher.

"Been followin' me, eh?" she asked as casually as she could, feeling joy when it was easier than expected to sound mocking. The barber eyed her questioningly once he caught up to her.

"Your behavior this morning certainly had me… concerned," he admitted openly while a hand wandered to the small of her back as if on its own accord to guide her along. She blew air from her nostrils and rolled her eyes but didn't flinch away from his touch.

"Well, I'm all peachy, Mr. Todd, so you can go back with a good conscience an' find something else ta do." Although aware of how forced her lightheartedness sounded the baker added a sweet but fake smile up to her companion in the hope he didn't know her as well as she believed he did after their year together.

For a long time he didn't respond whatsoever but when he did she had to look at him to convince herself that it was indeed him speaking.

"Look, I apologize for whatever I did to upset you. I did not mean to hurt you physically nor emotionally."

Her first reaction was a disbelieving laugh, followed by stunned silence. "That's jus' typical for a man, isn' it? You don' even know what you're apologizin' for but you're doin' it anyway. An' don't act like you done anything in the past year without the intention of 'urting me, Mr. Todd. I know and you bloody fucking knows as well that every single one of your touches wasn' meant to caress but to _cause_ _harm_." He wanted to speak when she had to take a breath but she was faster to continue. "Oh, and you really almost had me, ya did. Almost thought you cared. Bu' it was all jus' for the show, wasn' it? You wanted Carl to fuck off so you made 'im feel like the third wheel and then you took it one step further. Why not take advantage of good auld Nellie Lovett, eh? Was that your experiment, you bastard? Ta see if I could fuck you like the whores of Whitechapel?"

By now they were no longer strolling along the beach but facing each other while her furious speech and harsh choice of phrasing had him utterly speechless. She herself was surprised by her own rage. It wasn't like her to let her tongue lose in such a way, having been taught differently by a harsh father.

"That's really what you believe, isn't it?" he said with the strangest mix of doubt and amusement, searching her eyes for something but not seeming to find it.

"'Course it is, why d'you think I'd make such a fuss if I di'n't think so, goddamnit?!"

With every word that left her mouth his eyes went wider. It looked very much like he couldn't handle the truth. This time, before she could haul another gush of profanities at him, he covered her mouth with his hand, angering her further.

"May I explain myself, please? Clear some details of your flattering theory up, perhaps?"  
After everything she'd said she had at least expected him to hit her or act violent toward her in another way but none of that was the case. The barber, formerly well-known for his mood swings – mostly from bad to even worse – was perfectly calm and reasonable, leaving Eleanor little else to do but let him have his active share of the conversation. She nodded her head, his hand still covering her mouth.  
"You're right to a certain degree. I did use you to get rid of that… _butcher_, " -He spat the word like it was rat poison- "But you have to admit that I could have very well used a harsher and far less enjoyable method to do so. As to my experiment… it was you who started this whole kissing business, Eleanor. Now don't blame a man for testing his boundaries. Nevertheless I _do_ feel sorry for getting slightly… carried away in the process."

Being sure she wouldn't let her vocabulary go berserk again he lifted his hand off her mouth, even daring to softly brush her lower lip with his thumb. The baker was too confused to react at all, her thoughts racing through her head in chaos. She had to admit to herself that the whole scene she'd made just then (as well as the one in the morning) had been absolutely inapt and absurd. Most of it had been her insecurities concerning the barber's intentions, piled up since their escape to a gigantic mountain of anxiety which she'd been ignoring most of the time. She shouldn't have let it go this far.

"I don't know wot's gotten into me," she whispered, touching a hand to her forehead and facing the sea so he wouldn't see the pure shame on her features. "'S just… you're ev'rything I has, Mr. Todd. I don' think I could cope if you was gone an' I don' see wot's keeping you 'ere with me except… well… certain _needs_."

"Your concerns are plausible, considering my actions in the past. Still, should I be offended by your lack of trust in me? After all those painful hours of explaining my 'finding of closure', as you called it, to you I would at least expect a little less doubt, pet."

A smile tucked at the corner of her lips as she answered. "Well, excuse me for not paying too much confidence on the words of a murderer."

"Says the woman who used to bake people into meat pies." His voice was merely a whisper in her ear and she felt his hot breath on her neck and the heat radiating off his body due to his close proximity.

"We've come a long way, eh, Mr. T?"

He mumbled something that could have been 'indeed' or anything similar but it was muffled when he kissed down her neck. She took this as approval of her own statement and turned in his arms – somehow they'd ended up in an embrace. He leaned down, silently asking for her permission which she gladly gave, before capturing her lips with his own.  
At first it was simple touch of lips, light but at the same time oddly significant in its feel. His breath tasted of gin, which explained a lot, but it wasn't so intense as to say he'd had too much. In fact the flavor of alcohol, now mingling with her own gasps, thrilled her.

"Is this fine with you?" he asked huskily when he pulled back only to let his hands roam her body in a quite improper manner, considering they were not in the privacy of their own home. The baker could only nod eagerly, now enjoying his touch without the nagging worries of the previous night.

He lifted her up bridal style and she let out a squeal of half glee half surprise. "Bloody 'ell!"

The barber's response was a half-grin as he carried her along the beach until they reached the beginning of the tall and dry grass away from the shore. There he lay her down before climbing on top of her and continuing his playful assault on her neck and cleavage. It still amazed her how quick they could go from fighting to passionate kissing within minutes.  
If he had decided to untie her corset and dress right then and there she would likely not have objected but it was autumn and far from warm, even with the sun out, so when she shivered – admittedly partly from pleasure – he rolled off her and reluctantly got up, pulling her with him.

"We don't want you to get a cold, do we now, my love?" The barber had an eye-brow raised at her in amusement as she tried to regain her control over her ragged breathing. What caught her attention, though, was the fact that his use of the phrase 'my love' was for once said without anything but sincerity.

"You suddenly seem to enjoy my company more." That was a statement which needed no verbal affirmation when he slowly backed her up against the wooden door of their home, tenderly stroking a finger across her cheek, but he spoke aloud nonetheless.

"That's one way to phrase it," he breathed and pushed her inside while kissing her again, this time with more passion, more desperation. His body seemed to like hers very much. "Now, would it be too much to ask for you to get out of this bloody dress, Eleanor?"

She chuckled at his growl but reached around her back to begin untying the cords of her corset.

"Impatient are we?" she joked, provoking him . Now that she, for once, had the upper hand she would let him beg for a little while.

"Only slightly."

His next move was to lift her up once more and carry her to the sofa, the bedroom being too far away.

**.**

"Dou you love me?" she casually asked in a low voice while the pair lay still partly clothed on the sofa in front of the unlit fireplace.

"No." His answer was obvious, and she had been prepared for it, but he said it in a neutral way without any harsh undertone. She could live with that. It had been clear to her for a very long time that he wouldn't love another woman in his life again, no matter what life he chose to live. Eleanor understood that he needed to spare himself more devastation and therefore had to convince himself that a life without love was the only rational way to do so. It amazed her how simple it was to accept that fact.

"Hm," she said, not knowing how else to keep up the conversation she wanted.

"Lack of love doesn't keep me from doing _this_," he whispered and playfully bit her earlobe while his hand wandered below her skirt, drawing a moan from her slightly parted lips.

"In that case," she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could, "I shall not complain."

After that the couple moved their activities to the bedroom and although Eleanor knew they would never be married in the legitimate way she still couldn't bring herself to be unhappy with her situation.

She had her own little house by the sea, a successful business in a town far away from the detested streets of London and a fake 'husband' who _did_ love her in his own messed-up way, although he would rather turn himself in to the Beadle before admitting it even to himself.

But the best of all things was that the newest development in their relationship meant that Sweeney would certainly not need to spend his nights on the sofa in the future.

Now Sweeney Todd and she had a life together at last.

Maybe it wasn't like he remembered, and certainly it wasn't like she'd always imagined it would be but all in all she had gotten so much more than she'd bargained for or dared to wish for in her wildest fantasies when she had fled with him.

* * *

**Again, I'm so terribly sorry. **  
**Love **

**MiRii xx**


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